Leather Pants
by madderreds
Summary: Al goes shopping in the mall to buy new jeans, and wanders into Hot Topic... Elricest, one-shot, nothing racy, promise.


While living in armor had had its advantages (according to Greed, anyways), only wearing a loincloth had never really appealed to Alphonse Elric. He was a teenage boy, after all, and although he and Ed never flipped through the glossy pages of fashion magazine like Winry did, Al knew that loincloths were distinctly _not fashionable_.

So naturally, one of the first things he'd done after recuperating was to buy _fashionable _clothes. Ed had rolled his eyes, horrified that his baby brother cared about _fashion_. Winry, of course, had been thrilled, and offered to tag along—for fashionable support, she'd added with a conspiratory wink. Even Ed had come, grumbling about needing new clothes and not being able to make them himself anymore.

Going to the mall with Winry was terrifying. Although not quite like shopping with her in Rush Valley—that was horrifying and wallet-draining on a whole other level—it was certainly an experience. Al had been thrilled, though, as Winry piled shirts and jeans ("skinny jeans are so _cool_ right now, Al!") and even _boxers_ ("you never know when you'll need a cute pair of underwear!") into his arms. He'd tried them all on gleefully, luxuriating in the _feel_ of denim and cotton. Before all was said and done, Al more bags than he and Ed could carry. Ed had refused to buy anything, citing the "outrageous prices" as his reason. He'd gone to the general store later and bought basic t-shirts and cheap jeans. Al and Winry had been appalled.

Now, years later, Al didn't need Winry to help him pick out clothes. She still tagged along sometimes, ogling over make-up and designer jeans, but usually only as company. Ed, needless to say, hadn't gone to the mall since the first time ("I'm not spending _eighty fucking dollars_ on a _fucking shirt_, Al!"). Although the almost insane urge to be the most _fashionable boy on the block _had faded a long time ago, Al still bought his clothes from the mall. He could never bring himself to buy the cheap-feeling shirts and jeans that Ed always wore. They didn't feel good on his skin.

The mall was the same as ever when he strolled through the sliding doors, the cold blast of air conditioning a relief against the humid summer afternoon. Al was alone and, for once, not particularly pressed for time, so instead of bee-lining for his favorite store, he ambled through the mall, window shopping. His phone vibrated against his hip—Ed. Al smiled as he glanced down at the phone ("Where the fuck are you?") and wrote a quick reply ("Clothes shopping. Need new jeans."). The storefronts were crowded with mannequins boasting bikinis and summer shorts, and Al suppressed a chuckle as boys and girls crowded around the displays, oohing and ahhing over the newest fashions. His phone buzzed again.

"shouldn't eat so much of winry's apple pie. "

Another buzz.

"fat ass."

Al rolled his eyes and shoved his phone back into his pocket. He was _not_ getting fat. It was muscle.

And there was no way he was going to stop eating Winry's fucking apple pie.

A flash from the corner of his caught his attention, and he paused his stroll to look at the store. _Hot Topic_. It's faux brick façade boasted "gothic" trends and strobe lights—definitely not his style. But what the hell? With a barely concealed smirk, he walked into the store. It was filled to the brim with teenagers, most sporting a lot of piercings and self-satisfied grins. He choked back a laugh at one kid squeezing himself into a pair of pink leopard print skinny jeans—good luck with _that_! The walls were lined with t-shirts, some for the fad of the week (what the hell is _Adventure Time_?), others for bands that he'd never heard of (Nicki Minaj looked frightening). One said "Filthy&Dirty&Sexy&Dubstep."

What the hell is Dubstep? Ed would probably know. Pulling out his phone, he snapped a picture of the shirt and sent it his brother, captioned "what the fuck is dubstep?"

The reply was almost instantaneous.

"you don't wanna know."

And then, "why the fuck are you in that store? go buy your fucking jeans already and come home."

_Ooookay then._

Al continued to walk through the store, ignoring the bewildered glances of the teenagers worshipping the (stupid) products. He was nearly at the back when a pair of leather pants caught his eye.

No _fucking _way.

Unable to help himself, he grabbed his size off the shelf—admittedly a larger size than usual—and took them into the dressing room, giggling like a fool the entire time. The whole store is probably laughing, anyways. Al kicked off his shoes and wriggled out of jeans, all the while eyeing the leather pants hanging on the wall. Sucking in his gut—maybe he _should_ cut back on the apple pie—he yanked on the pants, slowly worrying them up his legs. Holy shit, they were tight. When they were finally snug on his hips, he look into the mirror and considered his reflection.

_Not too shabby._

Al grabbed his phone and took another picture in the mirror, smirking as he sent it to Ed's phone. He idly wondered what Ed would say. The phone buzzed once, twice, three times.

"holy fucking shit."

"are you for fucking real?"

"wear those for me tonight. in bed."

Al grinned.


End file.
